She cries over Rahoon
by Noel Bailey
Summary: Set in the 1900's. R&R. i'm not good at summeries


She Cries Over Rahoon

Rain on Rahoon falls softly

Softly falling

Where my dark lover lies

Sadly calling

Calling at grey moonlight

Love, love, love feel though how soft

how sad, his voice is ever calling,

calling, calling, falling

Then as now

Dark to our hearts

Oh! Love

Shall lie, and cold

As his sad heart has lain

Under the moon

Grey nettles

The black mould and muttering rain

Chapter One

Never did I think that my life would be anything but normal. I imagined myself as a wife and mother. My husband was to be rich and my children were to be plentiful. It's what was expected of me. Of course that's what my parents wanted, not necessarily what I wanted. But what else was out there for a young woman in times like these? I could have been a teacher or a governess but I didn't have the patience. And both jobs didn't seem very appealing. I wanted to travel, to explore. I wanted to be an actress. I wanted to take a risk and live in the moment and say sorry later. But I knew in my heart that my desires would be thought sinful. My family would be disappointed. I could never disappoint daddy. I was his only little girl. And my only living brother was a drunk and a gambler. I was the pride and joy of my father. We were so close. I couldn't say so much about mother. She was jealous of me. She hated me because I owned my father's attention. I loved her even though she resented me. And even now I wish that somehow I could have reached out to her before she died.

Thinking back to my youth there are so many things I wish I could change. But even if I had changed them I would still be the miserable creature I am today. So I guess I am much better off visiting the few good memories I have in life, not the bad. For even now as I sit here and pen this story, my health deteriorates by the second, though it seems. Every breath becomes a rattling cough and my joints squeak like a rusty hinge. But I have decided that I want some one to know what happened in the past. Whoever you are (the person who stumbled across this book) I hope you know that every thing in this book is truth. Every harsh word was said and every dishonorable deed done. This narrative may be a bit to intense for the faint of heart, so I do advise you to think before you engulf yourself in this tale.

I was born in 1879 to a well of family in the small town of Yardley Pennsylvania. I had one older brother who was seven years my senior. His name was Philip. He was the best big brother a girl could ask for. You could say that he was quite the ladies man in his prime years. Philip was a tall lean young man with a playful grin and brown eyes that I had seen melt away many a girl's heart. He was quite tan from his sports and his hair was as dark as a crow's feather. Fipp as we used to call him was witty and had a very troublesome personality. He was a good boy but got bored with toys and regular play quickly.

I had one other brother. His name was Ben. Benjamin was born when I was seven years old. He was the spitting image of our beautiful mother. His hair was so blonde that it was almost white and his yes were deep pools of blue that always sparkled. We called him Benny Boy. No one could even try to be solemn around him. He was the sweetest little boy anyone had met, and he charmed every soul he came in contact with. Just before his fourth Christmas Benjamin became very ill and died of pneumonia. It was a tragedy that brought great pain to all of our family. Benny Boy's death became the wedge between me and my mother. My mother felt that I was to blame for his death.

My parents had gone to Harvard to visit my brother, leaving me and Ben alone with our maid Lauren. Our cook had gone home to his family for the holidays. Soon after our parents departed our maid caught the pneumonia that was spreading through the town like rapid fire. The doctor could not be summoned because of the snowstorms. I was left to handle the duties of taking care of my brother, thyself, and of course Lauren. It wasn't a day before Benjamin became ill with the sickness as well. I worked tirelessly day and night following Laurens instructions. She told me what medicines to use and where the extra blankets were kept. I prayed every night for the storms to end so that my parents could come home sooner. After the third day we started to run out of fire wood and food as well as water was scarce.

But my biggest worry was poor little Benny Boy. Each cough seemed to shake him like an earthquake. The coughs were dry and raspy. I tried to keep their bodies sustained but they barley picked at the food I prepared for them. Both Lauren and Ben were as white as corpses and skinnier than stray dogs. It was a miracle that I didn't catch pneumonia as well but my parents said that when they finally came home that I looked like a walking skeleton. The came home Christmas eve to find the fire burning on its last log and Benny Boy lying next to it dead. There were no merry thoughts that Christmas or even the many after.

Lauren was sent home to her family in the south where it was warmer and we acquired a new maid. It took me a few weeks to gain back the weight I had lost during those horrid five days. My mother was so over come with grief that she locked herself in Ben's room and didn't leave for three days. She finally came out of the room with a great anger for me.

"How does it feel to know you let your brother die Emily?" She said pointing her finger at me as she slowly approached. I was horrified. I had done everything in my power to save my brother and she, my mother, should have understood. After all I was only eleven years old. I didn't answer her questions for my voice had escaped me at that moment.

"Lillian! What are you talking about? I will not have you speak to my daughter that way." My father said bursting from his study and ripping off his reading glasses.

"She killed him Richard. She killed our little boy." My mother said collapsing to the floor in hysterical sobs. My father helped her to their room, where I assume exhaustion overcame her. A few minutes later my daddy came out of the room and walked over to where I stood; still shocked by the words that seemed to linger inside my head. Very tenderly, my daddy picked me up as he has used too when I was smaller. He took me into the living room and sat on one of the cushioned chairs with a muffled groan.

"You have done nothing wrong my little flower. You must know that you didn't kill your little brother. It was God's will and God's will alone. And please forgive your dear mother. I believe she is going mad with grief." My father said turning my face and making me face him. I only could nod my head for my voice was still gone. Daddy began to tell me stories, and then without my knowledge I must have fallen asleep. For the next day I woke up in my bed in the early hours of the morning.


End file.
